


When a Cat Comes Knocking

by naity_sama



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Dumb cat jokes, Getting Together, M/M, No Smut, Size Difference, vipurr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27242800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naity_sama/pseuds/naity_sama
Summary: They say that these old ruins are haunted. That no one should ever go there at night. Unless, of course, you're a monster slayer. That being said, monster slayers are few and far between. Which is why it's fucking annoying that Gaetan is NOT the first, or only, Witcher here. The contract had been vague; haunted ruins, eerie wails, eviscerated and mauled corpses.There are a lot of things that the monster could be. But what the monster is is fucking DEAD.
Relationships: Gaetan/Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64
Collections: Vipurr: A Collection of Cat and Snake in Love (or just Murder Husbands)





	When a Cat Comes Knocking

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to write a little snippet on how these two might meet. It did not go as planned. I like it anyways.

They say that these old ruins are haunted. That no one should ever go there at night. Unless, of course, you're a monster slayer. That being said, monster slayers are few and far between. Which is why it's fucking annoying that Gaetan is NOT the first, or only, Witcher here. The contract had been vague; haunted ruins, eerie wails, eviscerated and mauled corpses.There are a lot of things that the monster could be. But what the monster is  _ is fucking  _ **_dead_ ** **.**

Gaetan peers through the crumbled gap of a crenelated window. He's clinging to the side of the building, two stories up with one toe wedged in a crack in the mortar and another on a bit of raised stonework. His hands grasp the edges of the window nearly tight enough to fracture the flaking brick. Down in the great hall below is Gaetan's prey. And over it stands a Witcher that is not Gaetan.

Inside, Gaetan is seething. The contract should have been his. The purse full of coin from the contract should have been his. And instead...instead, this other Witcher is there already. Gaetan watches through slitted eyes. The other Witcher is huge. Not just big. 'Capital H' Huge. If they were standing side by side, Gaetan would look like a child by comparison. His arms alone are each thicker than one of Gaetan's thighs. And, oh, the breadth of him. The Witcher is massive through the chest and shoulders. He was probably bigger around than Gaetan was tall. 

The Witcher's bald, scarred head is bowed over his kill as he inspects the beast. It's mutant head hangs half off its shoulders, nearly separated from the force of the finishing blow. Something cursed, perhaps, or a sorcerer's plaything. Likely once human. The Witcher kicks it once and it flops over a bit. When the Witcher moves to walk away, Gaetan's temper gets the best of him. A single chip of brick breaks under his fingers and plummets downwards. 

Gaetan has already pulled away from the window, but it is too late. The other Witcher will know. He can hear in the sudden silence the Witcher's deep inhale. Gaetan is upwind. He scurries his way over the brick like a fleet-footed gecko, up and over the edge of the wall, onto the roof and out of sight. The shingled tile threatens to shift underfoot, but Gaetan is light and quick. The other Witcher, however, is faster on the draw. Just as Gaetan readies to leap from one broken portion of roof to the next, a well-placed Aard sends him flying. 

Gaetan loses his footing. He falls.

His fingers scrabble over falling brick and tile but he misses grabbing a support beam by inches as the roof caves under him. He has enough time to cast a sloppy Heliotrop. There's no way to stick the landing with a roll. Part of the roof comes down in a heap and Gaetan goes down with it. His Heliotrop is weak. It keeps him from being crushed and softens his landing enough that he doesn't break anything when he hits, but the light armor he wears isn't designed for blunt trauma.

Gaetan winds up bruised and battered amongst the rubble. Before he has a chance to even think about working himself free, cold steel is at his throat. 

"What's a little pussy cat doin' in a place like this?" The big Witcher's tone is verging on playful and Gaetan is feeling the idiom about cats and mice in a new and wholly uncomfortable way. 

Gaetan makes an effort and levels the other with his best glare. The discomfort of his current predicament lends a bit of extra flair. Gaetan's green-gold eyes catalogue details at an alarming rate, first drawn to the steel sword gripped in a deceptively loose fist, then to the glimmering Viper medallion on the Witcher's broad chest. It hangs over a distinctive crossed brace of daggers. Above a jaw like a brick and a scar across his chin, the massive Witcher's deep set eyes are startlingly intelligent. It's always easy to underestimate the brains of a large, brawny opponent. 

"Cat got your tongue?"

"I figured a snake would strike first, not waste time on idle chit chat," Gaetan hisses. He doesn't miss the way the Viper's lip curls in amusement. 

"I think," Letho muses - and it can only be Letho of Gulet, the Kingslayer himself, "That I have you exactly where I want you. You should probably talk."

And he does have him. Gaetan is knelt precariously in the rubble, pinned under brick and wood. He could probably free himself with force, but not without broadcasting any intention of attack. As it is, Gaetan can't reach any of his weapons. If he were to try anything, the steel of Letho's sword would behead him before he'd freed himself enough to strike. With a growl, Gaetan leans  _ into  _ the blade.

"It's MY contract." Gaetan can feel a hot trail of blood snaking its way under his leather cuirass. "I got the notice. I talked to the ealderman. Then I get here to scope it out and YOU." Gaetan can feel himself start to seethe. He pants several deep breaths to try and calm himself, and succeeds enough not to try anything stupid. He keeps his mouth shut, by force of will more than anything else.

Letho eyes him calculatingly, from Gaetan's sweaty pate to his blood slick neck, down to his heaving chest, and even his soft-toed boot peeking from the debris.

"Wasn't after your contract. Needed something I'd heard was here," Letho admits, angling his blade so it no longer cuts Gaetan's flesh. "Your monster was just a casualty. If you can calm down I'll let you take the head. I only came for the one thing." 

Gaetan can't quite decipher the expression on Letho's craggy face. It's speculative, for sure. Perhaps appraising. What he doesn't see is a lie. Gaetan steels himself and lets his eyes fall shut, seeking that calm center his mentors had once despaired he'd ever find. His breathing eases and his heart rate drops to the slow but steady thrum of a Witcher at rest. When he opens his eyes, the sword is no longer at his throat.

Approval. That's another expression he can read. Gaetan's heart increases tempo for a dozen beats. When it slows again, Gaetan nods. He expects to extricate himself on his own. Instead, he has barely a moment to gauge Letho's unexpected movement before a hand big enough to crush his head has him by the back straps of his armor and yanks. 

Gaetan comes free of the rubble with an indignant yelp and instinct decrees that he promptly buries his fangs in the nearest bit of soft flesh. Soft might not be the proper description for the thick slab of forearm he bites into. He barely manages to draw blood.

With a curse, Letho shakes him enough to break his bite and flings Gaetan rather roughly to the ground. This time, Gaetan does roll, and he comes up in a crouch, spitting like a barnyard cat. It's inelegant and embarrassing, but Gaetan thinks it's a valid response to the surprise.

"Warn a fucking guy before you get all handsy with him, meat head!" Gaetan has a single moment to see what Letho's surprise looks like. Then, the other Witcher is laughing. Great, big, shoulder-rolling guffaws that shake his frame. It's not funny. It is, at least, a  _ little bit _ funny. It turns out, laughter is contagious. Gaetan is squinty eyed with it, snickering in a way he hasn't in years. His face hurts from it, and his sides with their bruises, and he has to wonder for a moment if he might be concussed. Eventually, they get it under control. For a few minutes, Letho can't even look at him. Its maddening. Its exhilarating. It's the funniest fifteen minutes of Gaetan's sad fucking life.

After that, it's a little blurry. Gaetan makes another insult that comes out halfway between a snake joke and an innuendo. He's giddy enough to actually mean it. Letho has a rejoinder that's twice as good and three times as dirty. Gaetan can't help it. It's in his nature to push boundaries. He pushes. 

This time, when Letho reaches for him, Gaetan doesn't recoil away. He puts his mouth to good use and lets Letho kiss the breath out of him. It's exquisite. Letho's left hand swallows the back of his head completely, deceptively gentle in its touch. The right grips his ass and pulls him in tight. Gaetan purrs. He bites Letho's lip when he laughs, but he doesn't quit. Even when Letho bags his own Cat.


End file.
